Losing Him
by Anbessette
Summary: Set in early 2009. Kyle thought he'd lost Zeke during the disaster at the river. Now he's come back, but with his memory gone. What will this mean for their relationship? Kyle/Zeke.
1. Chapter 1

Napier's hand grabbed my shirt, slamming me against the door, and the only thing I could feel was relief. As his mates swarmed around us and he shouted that this was all because of me, my head was whispering _yesyesyes _to every word he said, my body tingling with anticipated pain.

"Dec, he's not worth it!" cried Bridget.

Too right, Parker. I'm not worth a damn thing. She was grabbing at his arm as he lifted his fist, trying to drag him away.

"Go on," I said quietly, looking straight into Declan's furious, chalk-white face. "Hit me. I deserve it." I knew this was going to happen from the second I stepped into the classroom, and I was almost looking forward to it. I'd deserve everything Napier gave me and then some.

But Declan wasn't moving. He stood there, staring at me, for a few seconds, then walked out. His friends all followed him, and I closed my eyes, leaning back against the door. Someone touched my shoulder. I jerked back.

"You OK, mate?" Mr Fitzgerald was looking down at me, wearing his famous concerned face. _ What the hell do you think? You were there. Your girlfriend nearly drowned, and her brother did. I am not OK, and I am not your mate._

"Fine, sir."

"Better get to class then, eh?"

I picked up my bag and went to leave.

"Kyle." I turned around. "Don't let that lot get to you. Declan . . . He just took it pretty hard."

I wasn't expecting the burst of rage that swelled up in me at those well-meaning words. So _Declan_ took it hard, did he? It must have been torture for him, having to wait a whole hour before he found out Bridget was fine. I'd spent all goddamn summer not knowing whether Zeke was alive or dead, and now I was being told to make allowances when Napier as good as called me his murderer. But with that thought, the anger drained out of me. Because Declan was right, wasn't he? I'd killed the guy I love.

* * * * *

_The guy I love._ Did I realise that before the river, or just in hindsight? I couldn't remember. I wasn't sure if I'd even thought about it. I always knew I liked Zeke. He was a cool guy – miles beyond Justin and those tools. I knew I liked talking to him, liked hanging out with him, liked his brains and his jokes and his music. And liked pashing him. Maybe the l-word crossed my mind, maybe not. It never crossed my lips. That's one of the things that haunts me when I'm trying to sleep.

When I was about seven, I asked my mum what the difference was between love and like. She told me that you love someone if, when they die, you cry.

I cried the day it happened, for the first time in years. No-one noticed, we were all dripping wet anyway. There was chaos as people dragged themselves out of the water, shouting for everyone else. I think I was in shock. I couldn't even scream his name. All I could do was stare at the water, willing him to be OK, praying harder than I ever had in my life that he'd surface. He didn't.

There's one thing Napier and I are agreed on – it was my fault. Mr Simpson only came up with the idea of the kayak race as a way to settle a fight between me and Declan. I started it by making a pass at his girlfriend, basically telling the whole class that since she obviously wasn't afraid to get freaky, she may as well do it with me. The most frigging ironic thing is that I didn't even have a problem with Bridget. She's got crappy taste in men, and getting herself knocked up wasn't the smartest thing to do, but apart from that she's not a bad chick. I was just getting sick of the way that whole crowd had been treating Zeke lately, looking at him like he was some sort of traitor. They kept telling him that he was being an idiot and screwing things up with the only real friends he'd ever have. It pissed me off. Did they think they had him under contract just because they lived on the same street? Zeke could hang out with whoever the hell he wanted, and if that happened to be me, so much the better. So I went after Bridget, because I wanted to show Napier what it was like to see someone else trying to publicly claim the person who mattered most to you. And that was it. Bloody stupid thing to lose a life for . . . to lose _Zeke's _life for.

* * * * *

The SES weren't exactly happy about us wandering around in the bush, but they let us keep looking. They warned us it probably wouldn't do any good. They were right, of course. OK, maybe not. Bridget and Ms Kennedy got found. I would have been happy about that – two fewer deaths for my conscience – if there was room left for me to feel anything that wasn't about Zeke. I was out there for hours before it finally occurred to me to check back, see if anyone else had seen him. When I got there, I saw his step-father talking to one of the emergency workers. "It's extremely unlikely that your son survived." She was holding a helmet. It was cracked, dented, broken . . . I didn't get to here the rest of the conversation. I had to go off behind a tree and throw up. I couldn't stop seeing his head in that helmet as it smashed against the rocks. His head _without_ the helmet. I was shaking like crazy, and I knew I couldn't go back out there. I wasn't going to find him. Even if I did, it wouldn't be Zeke any more, just a bloody, broken corpse. There was a cluster of parents up around the tent. Mum was there, and she came running over when she saw me coming. I let her hug me, even though anyone could have been looking. Just goes to show how screwed up I was by the whole thing. After hanging on to me for five solid minutes, she asked if I was OK.

"Zeke . . ." That was all I could get out.

"Oh, no. Honey, I'm so sorry."

Her eyes were huge with pity. I never exactly told her about me and Zeke, but she knew. She knew everything. I used to laugh about it with him. _Ninja powers. _I was going to start bawling in a second.

"Can we go home?"

"Of course."

We didn't talk until we were in the car. I'd almost fallen asleep against the window when I heard her saying "This isn't your fault."

Yeah, right.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to 0Fallen0Angel0, who's been incredibly patient. A thousand apologies for taking so long. There's one more chapter to go, and I promise it won't take as long as this one did.

* * *

I watched in shock as Kyle walked out of the room, leaving Harry to attack Declan.

I didn't know what the hell his problem was. But, despite what the others said, I knew there _was_ a problem. When I tried to ask them about it, they just shrugged and Ringo said "He's Kyle Canning. What more do you need?"

I should've known better than to ask, really. They all seemed to have a thing about Kyle. Thought he was a bad influence on me – which was nuts. He'd been the best influence.

After I came back, I was really messed up. I couldn't remember anything. Everything I thought I knew about who I was was a lie. Everybody tried to remind me. They told me stories, showed me photos, took me places. Finally, Rachel had pulled out my video diary. She thought it would help, but it actually just made me feel worse. I didn't see how the guy on that screen could be me. I didn't even like him. He was just so _angry_ – it was almost scary.

Kyle saw that I was getting depressed and made me tell him what was going on. When I explained that I didn't want to be that guy who hated the world, he got pissed off and told me that was bull. He made the extremely obvious point that I hadn't felt the need to vent into my diary when I was doing OK. Then he showed me some essays I'd written for English and Psych, and the world started to open up. The Zeke Kinski behind those words was nothing like the one I'd seen before. He was smart, perceptive and reasonable. I found myself nodding along with a lot of the points he made. I liked the guy. If I'd written those essays, there was at least one thing in my old life that I could be proud of and that I wanted back.

I can honestly say I wouldn't be the person I am today without Kyle's help. So when he walked out, I had to go after him. Even if the play was about to start. It was Kyle. I owed him a lot more than risking the wrath of my director/brother-in-law.

I caught up with him near the edge of the school grounds. He was sitting at the edge of the oval, staring at it like he was trying to set it on fire with his mind. I sat down next to him.

"Hey."

He ignored me.

"You wanna tell me what that was about?"

"What?"

"You frigging know what. Setting Harry on Declan just when they were sorting things out. What's going on with you lately?"

"It's … Nothing. It's just this stupid play, all right? It's a waste of everyone's time."

"Oh." I wasn't sure what to think of that. Kyle wasn't even in the play, I couldn't see why it'd bother him so much. I was also pretty sure he hadn't lied. "Well, look on the bright side. It'll all be over after tonight."

"I don't want it to be over. I don't want it to happen at all."

"Why not?"

"Because ..." He trailed off, and yanked a handful of grass out of the ground. "It's the most self-indulgent load of crap I've ever seen. Who writes about their own life that way? Whoever Tara was supposed to be, I'd bet she's the reason Steph dumped his sorry ass."

"I don't think that there ever was a real Tara. Toadie just made her up for the play."

"He made her up because his fantasies about messing around behind his fiancée's back were just too good to keep to himself."

"Gerard isn't cheating on Stella! He and Tara don't even kiss until the last scene."

"What about that scene in the park?" He put on a falsetto voice I think was meant to be Sunny. "Do you think I'm afraid of a little bit of rain?"

"They cut that."

"Yeah, of course. So there's no kissing. Big deal. They shovel the innuendo on with a trowel whenever she's on stage. Stella's a third wheel in her own damn relationship, and we're supposed to feel sorry for Gerard when she stumbles over the vows."

"You don't like Gerard?"

"I liked Gerard fine before that skank turned up. It's Tara I've got a problem with."

This was starting to get annoying. I'd left my friends behind to get ready for the play I was starring in to raise curtain … all so I could argue with Kyle about the characters?

"That's it? That's why you told Harry Declan's mum was dating Paul Robinson? Why you've been acting different for weeks?"

"That's it. I'm passionate about the theatre."

"Bull. Kyle, come on. Talk to me. We're friends, right?"

He laughed shortly. "No, we're not. I'm your friend, Zeke, but you're not mine. You can't be. You don't even know who I am."

"I remember you."

"You don't."

"No, really. Do you remember when we first met after I came back?"

_Sitting in Charlie's with the guys from Ramsay street. I'd given up trying to follow their conversation and was just staring at the door when a guy walked through it. His eyes met mine, and he froze. Without even knowing what I was doing, I was walking over to him. I didn't even hear the others' voices as they tried to call me back. I stopped about a metre away from him. Up close, I was sure. I _knew_ him. A name came to my lips._

"_Kyle?"_

_He stepped forwards and grabbed my arms so hard it hurt. "Zeke!"_

"I walked up to you when you came in. I said your name."

"Yeah. My name. Big deal – that's all you remember."

"You don't understand. I didn't remember any of my friends."

"I never said I was the only one you -"

"Listen to me! I didn't recognise Ringo or Declan or Donna. I didn't recognise Susan. The only person I could even put a name to was Rachel. And then, you." I paused to let that sink in. "I know there's still a lot missing. But I remember you."

Kyle stared at me. He looked scared and shocked and … hopeful?

Before I knew what was happening, he was kissing me. And I was frozen. But I couldn't pull away. The kiss was hard, our lips practically crushed together, but it wasn't aggressive. More like desperate. I'd never seen Kyle like this before. Something deep inside me was saying that if I pushed him away now, if I hurt him … well, that just was not going to happen.

He stopped a few seconds later. No hope in his face now.

"Kyle ..."

"Told you you didn't remember."

I didn't have a chance to say anything else before he leapt up and ran away.


End file.
